Brother of a psychopath
by Randomkid203
Summary: Artemis Merwin has never got along well with his older brother, but will that change after the FAYZ begins, or will they still fight like they always did. Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the gone series, then I wouldn't have made a fanfiction about it

"Listen, I want to believe you, son, but you're not working with me here, so I'm just going to leave for a while so you can think about telling us the truth." The stupid police officer said. Apparently, I was their prime suspect in a murder investigation, because of my notebook. All I'd done was draw and write about a few slightly violent scenes, unfortunately, the picture I drew was identical to the picture of the crime scene, and the story I'd written matched the description of what they thought might have happened at the time. The victim was my science teacher, who I hated, so I'd drawn the picture to vent my anger. Unfortunately, she was killed that night.

The police officer came back in, he was a tall, broad-shouldered man with short greying hair and a large beard, he was playing "good cop", trying to make me tell him that I'd killed her, the only evidence they had was my notebook.

"So, Artemis, is it alright if I call you Arty?"_ No, you fucking moron, my name is Artemis, _I thought, but stayed silent, as I had the previous nine hours of interrogation. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat "Um..Alright, then. So, Arty what was you're relationship like with your mother?" Did I mention that my science teacher was my mother? And We weren't exactly the perfect family, not after Dad died, killed himself, she blames me. I continued to be silent, I had a right to remain silent, didn't I? He seems shocked that a nine-year-old won't talk to him, it's actually quite funny.

"How about you explain these pictures you drew? Then you can go home." he was lying, like most adults did. He looked like he was trying to get a monkey to stop biting his finger. I bet he's only seen people my age as traumatized witnesses, who tell him their entire life story, not as an annoyed kid refusing to talk about anything.

"Now, listen, Arty, I know this is tough on you, but you've got to say something, we're the good guys here." _no you aren't, my dad was a policeman, he killed himself and taught his oldest psychopath son to shoot a gun, and you don't need any information from me, I'm already guilty, who's going to say otherwise? My mum? My dad? My brother? Hell, no._ I glared at him, still silent

He sighed "Okay then, Arty, you can go now." I raised an eyebrow, where was I supposed to go? "The people you'll be staying with for now are waiting outside." he explained

"Can I have my notebook back?" I asked. That was the first thing I said the entire time I'd been here. His beady little eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh..um.. well, you see, Arty, this notebook is being used as evidence," he explained, like a teacher trying to explain why you weren't supposed to pull people's hair. "maybe if you tell us a bit about what you drew in it, I'd be able to get them to give it back to you." He said, as if he wasn't one of _them._

"Okay," I said, sliding in to the role of a scared nine year old. "but I need to have it here to be able to explain it to you."

"Alright, come over to my desk and you can explain it to me." he looked like a kid who was about to get the candy he'd been begging for.

He walked me over to his desk, it was covered in papers and files, and cop stuff, arranged into little piles around the desk, one file was open, it said _Artemis Zwyn Merwin _in bold letters on the top. He opened a drawer containing stuff that they'd taken from suspects, from pictures of their families to knives and other weapons. He pulled my notebook out of the mess and smiled at me. I looked back at the drawer, it contained a few knives, one of which stood out, ten inch blade with a black handle, I allowed fantasies of what I could do with it fill my mind.

He noticed me looking at the contents of the drawer, he closed it, completely failing at drawing my attention away from it, and I noticed that he hadn't locked it. He tapped the desk with his finger, my mind snapped away from the plan that was formulating in my head. Looking worried, he opened my notebook to the page of the picture of the murder. It was a pencil drawing, I never coloured in my drawings, but you could see the colours, if that makes sense. It was a picture of my mum lying on the floor, nearly dead, lying in a pool of blood, a knife was about to stab her a final eighteenth time.

He seemed to be in shock after seeing the gruesome picture for a second time. I took the opportunity and grabbed my notebook, pulling it out from under his hands, I pushed his paralysed form away and pulled open the drawer, I grabbed the knife I'd been looking at, accidentally cutting my hand on the blade. The police officer finally figured out what was happening and tried to grab me from behind, I twirled around pitifully ungracefully, stabbing him three times in the stomach before breaking free of his loosened grip and racing out of the building. A few police officers chased me, though most were inside, either still in shock from witnessing the murder or trying hopelessly to save the dead police man, like my mother had my father when I was seven.

It was dawn. They'd interrogated me all night, I realized, as I raced through the shadows. I had nowhere to go, but I had a knife and my notebook, and I always kept my mechanical pencil in the spiral binding of my notebook. And it was still there, and I had an extra, just in case. I had everything I would ever need.

With this in mind, I began to run faster, I was faster than most people my age, everyone knew, they noticed how fast I ran, but that wasn't what people recognised me for; I was a nine year old boy of average height, thin, with brown hair, and with acne beginning to show up on my face , normal, normal, completely normal. It was my brother that made everyone recognise me, my older brother, the boy who shot his neighbour in the leg, Drake Merwin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the gone series, then I wouldn't have made a fanfiction about it

I don't know how long I'd been running, but when I finally stopped, I found myself at the gates of Coates academy, about five miles from where I'd started. I knew my way around the school relatively well, as my mum had thought about sending me here more than a few times. It was probably about midday now, and the kids at Coates should have been in their classes, but instead there was a large number of kids out in the field, either scared or confused. I could see the back of Drake's head, he was standing behind a boy a little older than him, maybe fourteen. He looked menacingly at any kids who weren't paying attention to whatever it was the boy was saying. There was a girl standing next to him, closer to the other boy, she looked like a supermodel, I guessed she was the other boy's girlfriend. There was a smaller boy standing behind the group, he looked like the sort of kid who would do whatever you wanted if you looked scary enough.

I walked through the open gate as quietly as I could, the boy speaking seemed to be either feared or liked by most people. A brown haired girl, who was probably about twelve stepped out of the crowd and began to argue, Drake tried to slap her and make her shut up, but she jumped out of the way with inhuman speed I walked close enough that I could hear what was going on, but I didn't walk any further for fear of being seen.

"Well," said the boy "anyone who agrees with Brianna will tell computer Jack, everyone else will come with me." the small boy (who I really shouldn't be calling small, as he's older than me) typed something on his laptop. I guessed he was computer Jack. The girl, who was probably Brianna, scowled.

"And then what, Caine?" asked Brianna, not giving up on whatever her argument was "You'll tell Drake to kill us?" Drake smiled in a way that suggested that he would like nothing more than for Caine to give that order.

A relatively large number kids raised their hands and said that they agreed with Brianna, and they would not follow Caine, even if he has them killed. You could tell that a smaller number of kids agreed with her but were too afraid to say so, and a few didn't seem to care but had been dragged to one side or the other by their friends.

The crowd began to disperse, Caine, Drake, and their group went off in one direction and those who agreed with Brianna broke into groups of three or four. I assumed that anyone who disagrees with Drake was either very stupid or very dangerous, and Brianna didn't seem stupid, but I had just run five miles without anything to drink, and I hadn't slept for about two days, so I decided to hope that Brianna was nice. She was standing by a tree, not doing much.

I walked up to her quietly, I stood behind her for a second, and I tapped her on the shoulder.

She whirled around and stared at me, she seemed to be trying to decide whether to scream and behead me with one slap or to hug me and treat me like a seven year old. "Hi," she said, apparently choosing something close to the latter "um.. what's your name?"

I smiled my awkward little smile and said "I'm Artemis." I coughed, "You're Brianna, right? I heard you talking to Caine—that's his name, right?" I coughed again, "Sorry, do you have any water."

She produced a bottle of water from her bag and handed it to me. I smiled in thanks, deciding that I liked her, and drank the water.

"Thanks," I said, realising that if she knew I was Drake's brother she'd probably have let me die of thirst.

"So," she said, apparently realising that I wasn't four years old, "What are you doing here?"

I wasn't sure of what to say to that, after all, telling the truth could result in her either feeling sorry for me, or her thinking I am a psychopath and beheading me with one slap. Of course, lying to her could result in her finding out the truth and causing the probability of her beheading me going up. "I was at the police station this morning," I explained, deciding to sugar-coat the truth, "My mum was killed, and they were interrogating me as a witness, and I think I got scared so I ran away and I came here."

"Oh." she said, "Do you have any older siblings"

" No." I said, "Not really." I usually wasn't one to trust people, but Brianna seemed trustworthy, and, I told myself, a friend might be nice.

"Not really?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow,

I opened my mouth to speak, realized I looked like a fish, closed it again, and finally said, "Drake's my brother, Drake Merwin"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the gone series, then I wouldn't have made a fanfiction about it

Brianna's eyes widened for a second, she frowned, then said, "You don't act like your brother."

"No." I said, somewhat proudly, "no, I don't."

"How old are you?" she asked, "You look like you're about.. eight..?"

"I'm nine." I told her "Four and a half years younger than Drake."

"Hey!" called some kid across the field, "Who's that?"_ well, fuck. _ I thought, as Drake appeared in the doorway. His grey eyes darted across the field, when they found me, his mouth twisted into his sinister shark's grin.

He walked over to me, "Hey, _Arty_," he used the hated nickname with glee, "How are you?"

"You know this kid?" asked Caine, "Take him inside, come on." Drake grabbed me by the collar, dragging me into the large school building. I struggled under Drake's grip, elbowing him in the stomach in a weak attempt to make him let go of me. Caine's eyes darted between the two of us, taking in the similar features and the familiar way we fought,"I'm guessing you two are related, then." he said, we nodded, "So, Arty," he said, a fake smile stretching across his face, "How old are you?" his tone reminded me of that of the policeman, and I unconsciously slipped into my silent uncaring mode.

Drake smirked, "He's nine," he said, "and he doesn't like you." Caine's girlfriend smirked, and Caine grinned.

"Doesn't he?" he said, "Why not?" the three teenagers laughed, I glared at the three of them, but was ignored.

"Diana," Caine said, addressing his girlfriend, "read him." Diana walked over to me,

"Let me see your hand," she said, I kept my hand in my pocket, aware that it was probably covered in dried blood, which I'm sure Drake would find amusing. After a moment, Drake grabbed my arm and pulled my hand out of my pocket. Diana touched my hand, then said, "He's a three bar," Caine nodded, "And there's blood on his hand."

"How'd that get there?" laughed Drake, his hand darted to the knife handle protruding from my jacket pocket, but I was faster, grabbing the knife a second before him. Some of the policeman's blood was still on the handle, and the long blade shone in the light from the windows. Drake grabbed my arm and yanked the knife out of my grip, he eyed the knife and smiled, "Where'd you get this?"

Caine looked at him in a way that said _Shut up and let me speak. _And said "So, Arty, now the question is, will you come with me and help me take over Perdido beach, or do you agree with Brianna, as I'm sure you heard her view on what we should do."

"I agree with Brianna." I said, Caine sighed,

"Well then," he said, "Drake will take care of you until we decide what to do with you"

Diana smirked, "Yeah," she said sarcastically, "because Drake is the perfect baby sitter for an eight year old."

"He's nine." said Drake, "And I plan to lock him in a closet and hand him the occasional bit of stale bread until you guys come up with something to do with him and the rest of them."

They made it sound like anyone who didn't agree with Caine was part of an organised terrorist group, rather than a bunch of kids who don't fancy the idea of driving down a hill and taking over the town because he'd asked them to. "Come on, then," Drake said, dragging me towards his room, "You two had better come up with something to do fast."

His room here at Coates was relatively similar to the one at home, decoration-wise, at least, the furniture was much nicer, and the room was about half the size of the one at home. Posters hung from the walls, and I noticed that many had been taken down, likely due to the swear words, his bed had not been made, and the curtains were drawn, a few pictures had been drawn on the wall in permanent ink, and I saw a few designs copied from some of my own drawings. In one corner, some of my own drawings had been taped to the wall, I could remember giving him them on those rare occasions when we got along.

"Make yourself at home," Drake said with a smirk, "knowing those two, it will be about a year before they stop flirting and finally make a decision. You'd think one of them would finally ask the other out already, but nothing's happening."

"I thought Diana and Caine were already boyfriend-and-girlfriend." I said, sitting at his desk and turning on his computer, "Do you have internet?" I asked, relatively certain he didn't.

"Nope," he said, "when the adults poofed, so did the internet. Anyway, how are Mum and Dad? And where did you get this knife?" he pulled the knife out of his pocket and looked at the blade in the light, "It's freaking awesome."

"Dad killed himself after you left, remember?" I said, "Mum was killed yesterday. The police were looking into it." neither of us were at all sad that our parents had died, neither of us were very good at being sad about things, "I was a suspect." I glared at him, "Because of you." Drake smirked, "anyway, that's where I got the knife, this policeman-guy had it in a drawer he left open. Ironically, I was only able to get out of possibly going to prison for murder, by actually committing a murder." Drake laughed, I smiled slightly, I said hated Drake, but we were brothers, and if there was one thing I liked about Drake, it was that he was trustworthy, I could tell him that I'd killed a man, and he'd never tell a soul for as long as he lived. That was the thing about us, though, we claimed to hate each other, but when it came down to it, we were the best of friends.

Of course, most of the time we fought anyway.

"You know, Artemis," said Drake, suddenly serious, "if you ran away now, I wouldn't stop you." he was offering to let me go, he knew perfectly well that I wouldn't take the offer, but he was giving me a chance to get away.

I smiled, "where would I go?" I asked, "I didn't want to come here, anyway, but Perdido beach is filled with idiots. There's no way I'm going there. And no, I haven't changed my mind about helping Caine take over, he's a power hungry bastard, and I don't want to be around him any more than I need to."

"Watch your language." laughed Drake, "But you could still just tag along, you could just hang out with me. Then at least I'd have someone with half a brain to talk to."

"I don't like you either." I joked, he looked up at me in mock-hurt and laughed, "Anyway, I don't really like the idea of trying to take over a town with just a few people, and I don't even like any of those few people." Drake nodded, accepting that I wouldn't change my mind.

"But, remember, if Caine tells me to encase your hands in a block of cement, I won't hesitate to do so."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **It's my birthday. Be happy. For I am only thirteen. Not fifteen, so I won't disappear, except I will when I go on holiday, so this might be the last chapter for a while now.

And thanks to those who've reviewed my story, it's encouraging to think that someone is enjoying it.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the gone series, then I wouldn't have made a fanfiction about it

As it turned out, that was exactly what Caine told Drake to do.

Caine had rounded us all up, and told Drake and a few other thugs to make sure no one got out. We were then led, one by one, to another room, we didn't know what they'd do to us, though many were speculating about whether or not they were just going to slit our throats as we entered the room.

A few people thought they might just cut our hands off, as our hands seemed to be the source of our powers, but no one knew, and no one doubted that walking through that door would be an incredibly unpleasant experience.

"What do you think they'll do?" asked a Brianna. "I think they're just going to kill us."

"Maybe." I said, doubtful, "but I don't think Caine can really has enough people supporting him to go around killing people."

"It is Caine though..." she said, then as an afterthought, "And Drake." I shrugged at this, Drake certainly was the sort of person to kill a bunch of people because it's fun, but I couldn't say anything about Caine.

Jack called my name, and a group of unpleasant-looking teenagers dragged me by the elbows to the door "Looks like we're about to find out.." I muttered.

Inside the room, I saw a group of kids standing together, trying to stand up straight with their hands encased in cement. Drake's grey eyes darted to my brown ones for a second, giving me one last chance to run without being challenged by him, and he grabbed me by the shirt collar and dipped my hands in the wet cement, I struggled half heartedly, and Drake stopped me in the same manner, though, contrary to what he'd promised, he did hesitate for a second


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: **thanks again to those who've reviewed my story, it's encouraging to think that someone is enjoying it. And sorry for not uploading recently, I've been suffering from internetlessness, writers block, and low self esteem, but I promise I'll try to make the next chapter longer and upload it sooner (but right now I'm still getting over jetlag.)

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the gone series, then I wouldn't have made a fanfiction about it

Three weeks after Caine had left those not loyal to him, we had begun to worry that we would run out of food. We had noticed that the meals were getting smaller and less frequent, there's a nice girl called Dekka here, she offered to give me her food, but I declined, half because I would feel guilty, and half because I wasn't actually hungry.

Apparently, Caine had been holding a sort of "mutant club", and Diana (who, apparently, wasn't Caine's girlfriend) would say how powerful each person was, and how dangerous they were if they weren't loyal to Caine. Being a three bar and not loyal to Caine, I was relatively high on that list.

My power, according to Brianna, was probably something along the lines of being able to see the future, she also thought I might be able to make things happen by drawing them, unfortunately, however, we won't be able to find out what I can do until we get this cement off our hands.

None of us knew what time it was any more, and we all just fell asleep when we were tired and woke up when we weren't. Most people either slept the rest of the day or talked with their friends, a common topic of conversation was what we'd do to Caine if we could, and it had become a game, almost, to come up with the most violent death possible for the one responsible for us starving and being unable to move.

Of course, we had been able to walk around a little at first, but very few people wanted to, as lugging around cement blocks that scratch your wrists when you moved them was somewhat uncomfortable. There's a girl called Taylor Ohere, she wasn't the sort of person I'd usually hang out with, but when I talked to her, I decided that she wasn't too bad, as my options were talking to Dekka and Brianna, who were cool, but I could tell that Brianna, at least, didn't trust me as much as she might someone else because I was Drake's brother, and many questions went something like "You know Drake, what do you think he'd do?", but neither had told anyone else, and for that I was grateful, so I did my best to answer. There were a few people who spent their time moping, and I didn't waste any of mine in deciding that I didn't like them. My third option was to sleep all day, and I actually couldn't do that, no matter how much I wanted to. And my fourth option was Taylor, who did all the talking, and was somewhat entertaining to listen to, though she did try to figure out what I was hiding much of the time.

"So," Taylor said, bringing me back to reality, "do you have any older siblings?"

"No," I lied, "just me." Taylor was the kind of person who would persistently try to find answers to her questions for a while, then just forget about it after a week or so

"Really?" asked Taylor, as if an only child was the rarest thing in the world, "Me too!"

"That's cool." I said as pleasantly as possible, "But you seem like the kind of girl with lots of sister-ish friends"

"Yeah, but not since I came to Coates, I mean, all the students are _freaks_," she laughed, "I mean not you-and-me sort of freaks, that's just us poor souls."

I offered my own attempt at a laugh at the now overused joke here, and said in a mock-hurt voice, "Hey, my parents were planning on sending me here..." _if Mum had had the money after Dad kicked the bucket._ I thought sourly.

"Ha, how come?" Taylor asked.

"My parents didn't like me, and all I did was lurk on random sites made for people Caine's age." I said.

Taylor was about to respond with some long story when Drake burst in. His gunmetal grey eyes darted around the room.

"Taylor." he said, grabbing her by the arm, and smirking as she winced from the effort of using her toothpick legs. The two then left without even a word to explain why he was dragging one of the freaks out of the school. Not even Brianna could think of something mouthy to say about it.

Great. More people with cement block hands that Caine has grudges on are about to join us. At the time I had been somewhat preoccupied clutching my head in pain due to the inside-my-head equivalent of being hit by a bus.

But what I did know was that it felt like my head was being hit repeatedly with a sledgehammer, and that the cement block encasing my hands disappeared.

I saw Caine and his followers jump to try and stop them, and that was when a giant knife (that I recognised immediately as the giant bread knife from one of my drawings) materialized in front of them.

That's when I heard my brother scream out in pain and fear for the first time in my life

The jagged edge of the poorly drawn knife had fallen directly on his left shoulder, very nearly slicing his arm off, then, as quickly as it had come, the knife just vanished into thin air.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:** Okay, the internet at my house is set up, this chapter is a bit longer (but it is a bit ramble-y)... I should be able to update sooner now, but if I don't finish this story by september 8, I will probably disappear for a while again (school starts, and while I am generally good at starting new schools, this is a different curriculum, and therefore I am more likely to spend less time on the internet and more on staring at books.)

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the gone series, then I wouldn't have made a fanfiction about it

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the bright sunlight shining in my eyes, the second was lack of weight pulling my arms down, and the third thing I noticed was that someone was carrying me in one arm. I squinted through the light at my hands hanging limp over a muscled arm, they looked like, well, hands that had had the moisture sucked out of them by a cement block for a few weeks.

My brain slowly sorted through the events of the previous day, I remembered a terrible headache, similar to, if not worse than, the time I'd had malaria when visiting my uncle in Nigeria. I remembered the giant knife materializing from nowhere, similar to the one I drew on that same trip. As my eyes adjusted to the light, and I could see things more clearly, I saw the torn, bloodstained Coates Academy t-shirt, and I saw the tiny drawings on the sleeve, and I knew who this was.

I jumped involuntarily, falling from my older brother's somewhat awkward grip, scraping my elbows on the road

"Awake, are you?" asked an all too familiar voice. I tried to stand back up, but his large boot pressed down on my chest, "You know, I recognised that knife." he knelt down so he was staring down at me, I gasped shallowly, the pressure on my chest restricting my breathing, "What the hell? I gave you a chance to get away, look, you cut my fucking arm off."

"I didn't even know!" I gasped, "The knife just appeared, why would I even want to cut your arm off, anyway?"

"Who cares? You still did it." it was obvious that he was beginning to lose faith in his argument, despite the anger towards me still being there. I'd seen this before, in other arguments he'd had with parents, friends, neighbours, and me, and it rarely ended well for those in my position.

"Look, okay, whatever." he said, kicking me in the stomach. "Just get up and walk in front of me, we're going to walk," he looked around for a second and pointed in the direction of the town, "that way."

So I walked ahead, head bowed, running wasn't an option, even on one of his worst days, Drake could run faster than me on one of my best, and I, with my lack of meat on my bones and bruised ribs, stood no chance of running far without being caught.

We passed a few kids as we got closer to the town, some looked at the two of us, their eyes flashed first to Drake, then to me, casting me a quick glance as if to say _sorry_, then they walked a bit faster, while some would adopt my stance and walk away quickly, without more than a brief glance in Drake's direction.

Drake and I walked in silence, I allowed my mind to wander, as there was little I could do to change the direction in which I was walking.

The first thing I thought of was my power. I remembered drawing it now, Drake had been throwing a tantrum (one of many during his pre-teen years), he'd been yelling and screaming, his shrieks had alternated between barely understandable strings of insults, and normal screams that meant nothing whatsoever.

However, this hadn't been a normal childish tantrum caused by irregular hormone levels, but instead it was a Drake-ish tantrum caused by irregular hormone levels, no one would dare go near him (especially not after my bully of a cousin had pushed me into the kitchen in which Drake had been throwing his tantrum, and my older brother had thrown a butter knife in my direction, it had hit my arm, so I'd run out, hit my cousin and refused to talk to anyone for the rest of the visit unless I was forced to.

That was when I drew the picture, I'd been trying to get back at him, by inflicting pain on the imaginary Drake. Soon after this, I'd come down with malaria, and after three days of treatment I'd gotten better, but for those three days, I'd had nothing to do but alternate between lying on the cool floor clutching my head, and continuing to draw.

I think I must have hit my head, reminding me of the picture, and perhaps I'd somehow made it come to reality, it being that there was a fair amount of stress in the situation I'd woken up to. And maybe it only disappeared because I stopped thinking about it, maybe I was shocked by it's appearance, and that had knocked my subconscious away to replace it with my conscious mind, which had no intention of making a knife randomly appear in the middle of Coates Academy,

I wondered then, if I could bring a drawing of an arm to reality, and perhaps I could link the arm to the stub left of it, my plan had some problems, of course, but perhaps if I told Drake about it, he might be able to fix it, maybe he'd come up with a better idea, maybe he would help me actually figure out my power. But wait, why was I helping him? The bastard had probably given me a large number of bruises on my chest, and a black eye was likely already forming.

I resolved to not tell him. It was his own fault, if he'd not thrown a knife at me, I'd never have drawn the picture, and he never would have lost his arm in the first place.

I would end up telling him though, perhaps we would argue, and not be so angry any more, perhaps he'd give me some food and we'd sit down and chat because there was nothing better to do. Whatever happens, the two of us would reach a point in our bloody, petty little battle of revenge where we dropped our weapons and be the perfect siblings that parents dream of.

I remember trying to describe the relationship between my brother and I. I think I may have given a misleading explanation, jaded by our relatively friendly encounter at Coates, I said we were friends, really, good brothers that fought, but made up soon after, in reality however, we do fight a bit more than the average siblings, and our fights are more violent, and we would not hesitate to harm each other for selfish reasons, we'd never hesitate to harm one another in a fight, we'd never hesitate to give away one another's secrets to save our own skins. On the other hand, we'd never hesitate to drag one another out of death's grip, never hesitate to harm a friend to save one another.

I think a good explanation is;

Drake and I are the average siblings, in most respects, even if there is a bit more blood and violence involved in our relationship. We have a deep brotherly love for one another, but there is the fact that we loathe each other when neither of our lives are actually being threatened, there is then the polite friendship we have when there is no reason for us to fight, or to give the illusion of the perfect siblings to the people we passed on the streets.

Our relationship when we are with others varies depending on who we are with, we generally simply act so as to portray ourselves the way we wish those we are with to see us.

"Do you know the way to the house from here?" asked Drake, "I want to see Dad's gun collection, or did Mum toss it?"

"It's just down that way," I pointed down the street, I could just see the unkempt garden and various piles of useless things Mum had hoarded on the porch. "And you know Mum, she doesn't toss anything." as we got closer, so Drake could see the piles of stuff, he smirked, realizing what I'd meant as he remembered living with her, with only Dad keeping her away from turning the house into the dump it was now. "Are we planning to stay there for the night?" I was now speaking to him like he was Dad, and perhaps he was now, as he was technically my guardian, so not talking to him like he was the figure of authority might end in pain on my part.

"I guess." he said, looking at the darkening sky, "but don't get any ideas, I'm going to tie you to your bed so you won't go anywhere, and the fence if you cause any problems."

He'd done that once before.

I decided not to cause any problems


End file.
